


Does it Have to be Ineffable?

by Michael_In_The_Void



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don’t worry they get together in the end, M/M, Mutual Pining, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_In_The_Void/pseuds/Michael_In_The_Void
Summary: Crowley finds his dreams full of one certain angel, and it’s starting to stir something in him. He wants to tell Aziraphale, but can he manage to confess after over 6,000 years of pining after the angel?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Hey guys! As always I hope you like this fic and since I’m a beginner writer, I always love constructive criticism! Leave a kudos if you liked it and enjoy the fic!)

It had been months since the two had successfully stopped the oncoming apocalypse. By now things had gone back to normal, with the exception of the occasional visit from the former antichrist; who Aziraphale spoiled with treats and affection like a doting grandmother. Crowley showed his affection for the child in other ways, more subtle by far than Aziraphale. He would offer advice (usually unhelpful, but well meaning) and attempt to help Adam with whatever troubles he might have at the time. If they were severe enough, they would usually resolve themselves some time soon after he would mention them to Crowley. A lovely coincidence perhaps, but a demonic miracle is more likely. 

Yes, everything was back to normal, even with the addition of Adam in their routines.

Well it would be rather, if Crowley could figure out exactly what was going on between him and Aziraphale.

He had settled into a sort of domestic routine with his angel. Each morning he would wake up, water his plants (and yell at them, depending on what kind of mood he woke up in), and then rush over to the bookshop in his Bentley. Aziraphale would be ready outside and greet him with a friendly smile and they’d start the day off with breakfast from one of the usual dining spots that had come to know Aziraphale by name. Crowley preferred this to how he had lived for the last 6,000 years, only occasionally meeting with Aziraphale by chance. [1]

Of course, this wasn’t without consequence.

Seeing Aziraphale waiting for him each morning with a warm smile, hearing him laugh across the table over a plate of breakfast shared between them, every humble domesticity he had come to love about his routine had started to awaken the dormant feelings within him. Emotions that he thought he had long since gave up on; but after stopping the oncoming destruction of humanity with his angel by his side, it wasn’t hard to see why his affection was growing for Aziraphale.

This all came to fruition one warm Sunday morning, when Crowley had woken up hours before his day was meant to really start.

Crowley bolted upright in bed, his heart feeling like it was about to beat right out of his chest. He didn’t understand why he had jolted awake so suddenly, or why his face felt so hot. It wasn’t a nightmare, he was sure of that. Crowley always remembered his nightmares, for better or worse. The only thing he could drudge up from his memory was the feeling of gentle lips on his, and Azirphale’s soft white curls in his hand; much closer than he’d ever been to the angel in the waking world. Crowley felt his face suddenly get warmer.

Could it...?

No-

It couldn’t have been...

He kicked the thought immediately from his mind. Crowley knew what the dream was about now, it was something he’d dreamt of many times; too many times for his liking in fact. He wondered if Aziraphale had the same problem, he wondered if Aziraphale thought about him like that too.

“No, No- Stop it”, he fussed at himself.

Decades prior, he had promised himself that he was done with these dreams. [2] He knew he couldn’t have Aziraphale, no matter how close it seemed. Though he couldn’t do much to stop his slumbering unconscious mind from taunting him; but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He’d be damned regardless, actually.

He stumbled out of bed and over to his closet, flinging open the doors. After pulling on his usual day-clothes, he glanced at the clock. “7:30am”, the clock read. A full hour before he was expected to pick up Aziraphale from his bookshop. At least 30 minutes before he had to leave. This of course meant 30 more minutes for him to stew in his own thoughts.

Crowley walked out of his bedroom and made his way to the living room, his plants nearly trembling from his presence.

He scoffed, “Me? In love with an angel?”

“As if. Even if I were, it wouldn’t matter.”

The plants stayed silent, as most plants do; silent and fearful.

“It doesn’t matter. Zira doesn’t feel the same way- Whatever way this is- He won’t ever feel the same way. That’s how it has to be! All I can do is what I’ve always done; hide it.” Crowley threw himself down onto the living room chair, or throne rather. [3]

“Ineffable. That’s what it is. My emotions are ineffable”, he groaned. The irony wasn’t lost on Crowley. The same word that they had used to stop the end times (more or less) was a quality that he personally possessed, unfortunately. Though only to a certain point, considering he was shouting into the silence and foliage of his own home.

The greenery, at this point, might have tried to lend some sympathetic advice or perhaps a comforting word. However they couldn’t, and didn’t.

Crowley whipped his head over to the plants, hissing in anger, “And WHAT are you looking at?”

If plants could look away and try to hum inconspicuously, they absolutely would have in this moment.

He was just about to start his reign of fury down on the foliage when he looked over at the clock. “8:00am”, the clock read. He mumbled a few half-hearted insults at his plants, just to make sure they knew that his sudden halt wasn’t out of mercy.

“Might as well leave early, he’s probably waiting out there already”, Crowley forced himself up out of the chair. “It’s not like I’m going to be able to get any more rest this morning anyway.”

He wouldn’t be getting more rest anytime soon, actually.

———————————————————

[1] Although some of those meetings hadn’t been left up to chance, many of them had been intentional; but Crowley would never admit it.

[2]This had been after the incident involving a car, a thermos of holy water, and a couple of broken hearts.

[3] Crowley didn’t have many physical belongings, but this was one he was quite fond of.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley parked in front of the Bookshop in his usual spot. Usually Aziraphale would be standing on the sidewalk waiting for him, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Of course this made Crowley slightly anxious; what if he was too early? What if Aziraphale was angry with him for some reason? Was this correct one-of-a-kind vintage bookshop in the middle of Soho? These were all thoughts that ran through his head, and for a moment they caused him genuine concern.

He turned the volume up on the car radio, letting the music drown out his thoughts. “Linger on your pale blue eyes, linger on your pale blue eyes”, the radio sang. Crowley leaned back in his seat with a sigh, mouthing along absentmindedly to the lyrics.

Crowley’s thoughts once more drifted to Aziraphale. The angel had once described the band playing as ‘Bebop’. Truth be told this amused Crowley, but at the time it had been extremely frustrating. “‘Bebop’”, he muttered, “How would this ever be ‘bebop’?”

Suddenly there was a knock at the window. Crowley jolted up, nearly jumping out of his skin. He looked over and saw a familiar face, smiling at him through the glass.

Of course, it was Aziraphale. Who else would would it be?

The white haired man spoke, his voice slightly muffled through the glass, “Ah- I thought you fell asleep for a moment.”

“Of course not- Just get in here already”, Crowley replied. He huffed, not over the abrupt and, in his opinion, quite rude disruption the angel had caused him.

Aziraphale made his way over to the other side of the car and sat himself down in the passenger seat. He tried to close the door as carefully as he could, knowing how important the old car was to Crowley.

“So- I was thinking that maybe we could try that lovely little café that opened up on the corner. The one that we saw a week or so ago with the bakery on the side of it- Do you remember?”, Aziraphale began to ramble.

“Mhm”, Crowley replied; he was still preoccupied with the events that had transpired earlier that morning.

The angel gave Crowley a concerned glance, “Are you alright? You seem...bothered by something.”

“Hm?- I’m fine, angel. Don’t worry about it.” His attention was back on the radio, which suddenly seemed to be acting up.

Crowley began fidgeting with it.

“Are you sure?- Is it your er- management again? I was sure they’d leave us alone after the whole holy water fiasco.” Aziraphale was genuinely concerned. If Hell had come back into the mix then surely Heaven wouldn’t be far behind, and he wasn’t eager to engage with them any time soon. [4]

“It’s not that- I’m fine, really.” Crowley huffed and gave up with the radio. He shifted his attention to backing out and finally getting on the road.

The radio sputtered back to life.

“Oh nobody believes me, liar

Ooh, why don't you leave me alone”,

crackled through the speakers.

Crowley glared at it. Of course, even his car was out to get him today. [5]

Aziraphale sighed, gazing out the window “If you insist; I won’t push.”

“The only thing that’s bothering me is this stupid radio- Damn thing-“ Crowley hissed.

“Language, Crowley” Aziraphale had gotten used to Crowley’s manic driving by now, and at this point had tuned just about everything out; but not enough so that he couldn’t continue to fuss at the demon next to him.

Crowley rolled his eyes, biting his tongue. [6]

This was going to be a long day.

——————————————————

The car pulled up to the café and the pair carefully made their way inside. The café had been completely full all week, but by some miracle a table had just become vacant as they arrived.

Crowley fidgeted with a fork, listening to the angel ramble on about his most recent museum trip.

“-It’s a phenomenal manuscript. I mean, it’s absolutely gorgeous; even if it’s not from a trained hand”, Aziraphale gushed.

The angel leaned on the table slightly, obvious lost in his memories, “Oh it was wonderful, Crowley. If there’s any book I wish I could have in my collection, it’d be that one. Though I can’t help but wonder...”

“Hm?” Crowley glanced up, trying to appear like he had been listening.

Aziraphale chuckled, “Well you do know the rumors surrounding the Codex Gigas, right? I can’t help but wonder if you had anything to do with its creation.”

Crowley sat up slightly, “Oh no, definitely not.” [7]

He was silent for a moment, and for a solid second it felt like the café quieted with him.

“Er- Angel, could I ask you something?”

Aziraphale looked slightly surprised, but gave him a warm smile nonetheless, “Go right ahead.”

“Have you...had any strange dreams lately?” He wasn’t sure how to ask the question, but he was sure that it was better than ‘Hey Zira, had any dreams involving the two of us necking on the couch? I sure have.’

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale peered at Crowley.

“Nothing- I’ve just...I don’t know, I’ve had trouble sleeping lately. I wanted to know if you’ve had the same issue.” He leaned back; trying to make himself look at ease.

Aziraphale leaned forward with a look of concern, “Is it the nightmares again?”

Crowley looked up and saw his friend’s face. Had his eyes always been so blue? And the white of his hair looked like pure wisps of light with how the morning sun hit it.

He couldn’t stand it.

“No- I just-“ Crowley sputtered, “You know what, never mind. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Crowley, I’m worried-“ Aziraphale moved his hand closer to where Crowley had been resting his own.

Crowley drew his hand away, “I’m fine, angel; I mean it. They’re just dreams.”

“If you say so...”, there was a slight tone to Aziraphale’s voice that cut Crowley. Not deeply, and it didn’t hurt for long, but it was enough to sting for a few short moments.

And Aziraphale couldn’t argue after all, they were just dreams.

Even if truth be told,

He hasn’t been sleeping either.

—————————————————————

[4] Truth be told, he’d be happy if he never had to engage with them again after what had happened during the apocalypse. He had heard from Crowley what had happened on his side when they switched faces, and the thought of seeing Gabriel after that made a pit form in his stomach.

[5] Or at least he believed it was, which made it so.

[6] This was a new habit he had taken up after the apocalypse. After nearly losing Aziraphale many, many times he figured that he’d prefer not to have his last words said to the angel be some half-thought out bit of reflexive sarcasm.

[7] He most definitely had.


End file.
